The Reconstruction of Lucy Fabray
by Black-Ink32
Summary: Metal mouth. Crater face. All cruel names that circulated through her head, day in and day out. God, couldn't they just leave her alone? No, they couldn't. So she solved the probelm herself and now we can witness McKinley Highs Quinn Fabray live...and die


_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of the actors or characters. _

**The Reconstruction of Quinn Fabray**

**Prologue**

"God you're so ugly," the red headed girl sneered. "Why don't you do us all a favor and put a bag over your face."

All the little boys and girls laughed and jeered, adding their two cents. Their objective: the demise of one Lucy Fabray. She sat there, under the slides, taking their insults silently, praying for once that tears would not fall from her eyes. She had enough of crying.

"You don't belong here freak," a young boy spat. His dark eyes were full of malice and before she could blink his grubby hands had snatched her glasses from her face and threw them roughly in some obscure location.

"Give them back," she pleaded. Her vision was blurry and the tears now running down her face were not helping. "Please, give them back." Her hands searched the ground around her futilely. Where was a teacher when she needed one?

She hated this, absolutely loathed it. Why was it always her being picked on? Why couldn't they leave her alone? She had done nothing to them, yet they felt it their mission to make her life a living hell. She gave up searching and opted instead to destroy any evidence of her tears. Lord knows they'd prey on her, attacking her from every angle if she showed them a sign of weakness. Who knew fifth graders could be so mean?

"Lucy, what are you doing still out here?" Her teacher had now decided to grace her with her presence. "I called the class in minutes ago."

"I-I can't find my glasses," she whimpered.

"Oh dear, how did this happen?" She kneeled in front of the girl and pulled out a cloth, wiping the dirt smudges streaked across the girls face from her quickly wiping tears away.

She knew of the girls' situation. How the kids made fun of her. But what could she do? She called parents, spoke with the principal, talked with the kids, yet their seemed to be no improvement. So the girl was chubby and wore the thickest glasses in the class. Her face broke out frequently and her brown hair was stringy, but this girl was still a person. And she had no right to be treated the way she was.

"Lucy, here you go sweetheart." The green eyed teacher placed the girls' thick frames in her hand and waited for her to put them on.

"Thank you Mrs. Robinson," the girl smiled, showing off the metal in her mouth.

"Lucy honey, today's your last day of school. In two months you'll be a middle schooler, I'm sure by then these kids will have moved on to find someone else to prey on." She tried her best to cheer the girl up, but who was she kidding, she knew those kids would be relentless. They'd torment her through junior high and throughout high school.

"I'm sure your right," Lucy nodded, but she was thinking along the same lines as her teacher. Kids could be so cruel.

"Let's go inside now," Mrs. Robinson said, ushering Lucy along.

* * *

"How was your last day sweetheart?" her father asked around the dinner table. He had just finished his spiel on gays and how the two gay men from New York that had moved to _his_ town were an abomination. Her mother of course was silent and didn't voice her opinion save for the occasional nod in agreement.

"Fine," she lied. The Fabrays were infamous for hiding emotions and never addressing feelings.

"Wonderful," he smiled, "ready to be a big bad middle schooler?"

"About that…" Lucy had thought hard about what she was going to say; in fact she had mulled the words over in her head repeatedly during school and at home. "I think I want to be home schooled for the duration of middle school."

"And why is that sweetheart?" her father Russel asked, peering over a glass of brandy. Lucy fidgeted under her father's stern gaze before answering.

"I just want to try something new" she shrugged. "I wanted to also ask if maybe this summer I could go to cheerleading camp?"

"Well of course you can, don't you agree Judy?" her father's proud grin startled her, imbalanced her even.

"Of course dear, you know back in my days I was a cheerleader," her mother nodded approvingly. "That's how your father and I met. He was quarterback and I was head cheerleader." They gazed adoringly at each other and Lucy glanced down at her fettuccini alfredo. She wasn't aiming for head cheerleader or even expecting to land the quarterback. Lucy just wanted to fit in and maybe being a cheerleader would help with that.

"Excellent," her father nodded towards her. "I like these changes your making, darling. Keep it up." He excused himself from the table, leaving her with her mother.

"Are you finished dear?" Judy's voice brought her out of her stupor and she nodded quietly. This women was nothing like her. She was blonde, and gorgeous and just perfect. Sometimes she wondered if she was adopted, because her older sister, Franny, looked absolutely nothing like her and she didn't look anything like her parents. So who was she?

"I'm going to bed mom," Lucy whispered, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"Night Lucy," her mother called out. She didn't respond as she made her way to her room. Climbing up the stairs she made it a purpose to ignore the family portraits passing by. Everyone was picture perfect; everyone except for her. She was the only one that was fat, not perfectly blonde, crater faced and metal mouthed.

"Look at you," she whispered to herself, shutting her bedroom door behind her. "You're disgusting." She touched her face lightly, ghosting her fingers lightly over the acne peppering her face. She stared in the mirror hard, examining every detail about herself. The only pretty thing were her eyes; destructively beautiful.

Her reslove solidified.

"I'm doing this," she decided.

Grabbing a sheet of paper and pen she listed everything she wanted to change about herself. She listed her likes and dislikes. She listed who she could be and who she couldn't be. And at the top in bold letters she wrote **The Reconstruction of Lucy Fabray**.

* * *

_A/N: Review. Tell me what you think. Tell me if I should stop or continue. Tell me if I have absolutely no chance in hell of anyone liking this story. Leave love notes. Leave critiques. I don't know, you could even tell me about your day or week. Mine was great, school was epic, friends were morons as usual. Love 'em anyway. _


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